


Hunting of the Snark

by MrsHamill



Series: Raising Madison [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6036019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip back to Earth brings both good and bad things -- or Three Funerals and a Baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting of the Snark

**Author's Note:**

> These damn things just keep getting bigger every time and in light of that, I'm just lucky I've got Susan to help me with 'em. This one took a bit longer for various reasons. Picks up about six or so months after _Fractures_.

"Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:  
That alone should encourage the crew.  
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:  
What I tell you three times is true."

   -- Lewis Carroll, _The Hunting of the Snark_ ( _Fit the First_ )

* * *

Life for the Miller-McKay-Sheppard family finally settled down into a happy routine sometime around a month after arriving on Atlantis. Not exactly 'normal,' but they had never even tried for that anyway.

SGC reported one hell of a victory with the battle against the Ori, in part due to Madison's and Rodney's hard work, the Miller-McKay superhole proof. The war wasn't over yet, but it would be a long time before Earth could again be threatened so severely. They were offered the chance to return to Earth, but all three of them said no, mainly because Madison was flourishing on Atlantis, more than Rodney had even dreamed. The city was an open book to her, welcoming her as much as it had done John, which, of course, led to far greater things to be concerned about. So far, she hadn't gotten into too much trouble, but she was still young. 

She was gradually learning how to block the city's 'alerts' and was able to get through most of each day without the EM static generator, though she still slept with it on. She'd also been having fewer 'zone-outs' which made Rodney and John very, very happy.

Beelzebub, on the other hand, had decided that Atlantis wasn't cat friendly at all. She didn't have enough places to hide and voiced her displeasure whenever anyone not family was in the apartment (well, anyone except Zelenka, which was weird even for that cat). John and Ronon finally knocked down part of the back wall in the kitchen, enlarging it and making a short hallway into the next, much smaller, apartment. Rodney liked it because it gave him an office, of sorts, John liked it because it meant more kitchen and storage space, and Beelz liked it because she could hide in there. They even created a small cat door for her to the balcony, which was safe due to the forcefield around it. What Beelz lacked in cuddliness, however, was well offset by Elizabeth's Sage. Some days, Maddie spent more time with the dog than the cat.

Madison's intellect was growing by leaps and bounds, so much that it scared Rodney at times. It almost seemed that she absorbed things from the air she breathed. Elizabeth and Teyla had put together a curriculum for both Madison and the kids on the mainland and everyone took a turn teaching the various subjects. Parrish had them working in the greenhouses, learning about plants and soils. Kennedy had them on the mainland, teaching about animal husbandry and basic veterinary medicine. Carson gave them the basics of human biology and genetics while Heightmeyer taught them about puberty and social dynamics. 

Elizabeth taught English (as well as other languages, though Madison was the only one to learn Russian) and John taught literature and his knowledge of it never failed to astound Rodney. He taught everything from Lewis Carroll to Plato, Shakespeare to H.G. Wells (not, however, Tolstoy, as he had finally given up on _War and Peace_ ). While she was studying Shakespeare, Madison refused to speak in anything other than rhyming couplets or in iambic pentameter, and Rodney swore it was just to drive him insane. It did have the pleasant side-effect of improving her grammar, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.

There were other things that John called 'graphic novels' and Rodney called 'comic books,' but whatever they were called, Breathed and Watterson and Gaiman were as much discussed in their household as L'Engle and Tolkien. And Rodney thanked whatever deity listening for books in electronic form, otherwise the entire apartment would be filled to the ceiling.

Liu ended up teaching most of the mathematics classes, which was wonderful since she went way back, into the basics, and that would have frustrated Rodney to the extreme. She turned out to be an excellent teacher and her classes were popular since she taught visually and with real-life applications more than by rote or memorization. Several of the kids from the mainland were studying with her and John had to set up a regular shuttle service back and forth each day. Rodney allowed him to call it The Magic School Bus but threatened deadly force if John painted any of the 'jumpers yellow.

The first disruption into their happy routine was due to Carson's mother. She was going downhill fast, so Carson requested transfer to Earth. The new doctor, Jennifer Keller, was an impossibly young woman who Madison took to immediately. Shortly after Carson left, their regular mail delivery brought John a packet of information. Seemed he was officially a Canadian citizen -- barring the ceremony -- and the adoption of Madison was ready to be concluded, but both would require his physical presence in Canada.

It had been just a bit more than seven months since they had left Earth, and Madison had gone through a growth spurt that left her clothing tight. After talking about it with Elizabeth and Caldwell, they decided to take a three week leave to Earth to straighten up all the necessary documents and do some shopping. The Daedalus was due to arrive in Earth orbit at the end of those three weeks, and they could beam up any large items they wanted to take with them, rather than struggling to take them through the 'gate. The hyper-hyperspace generator was used only in emergencies, since it did drain one (or more) ZedPMs per flight. 

They walked through the wormhole back to Cheyenne Mountain with luggage in tow but no cat, not this time: Radek was looking after Beelzebub. They were met on the 'gate floor by Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c. Madison launched herself into Carter's arms even as she shrieked her name.

Sam whirled her around, laughing and hugging Madison, then handed her off to Jackson, who pretty much did the same. Teal'c had a more decorous greeting, but he was smiling hugely.

"You've gotten so tall!" Sam exclaimed as she passed Madison to Jackson. 

"Uh-huh!" Maddie said, squeezing Jackson's neck. "I need new clothes and shoes and just everything. But I still don't understand why I couldn't wear what the Athosian kids do," she added with a sly look at Rodney.

"No, Madison," John said as Rodney added, "We've had this discussion, Madison."

They went through the standard checkup and debriefing quickly, getting filled in on the Earth situation in general and Canada in specific. There weren't a lot of political changes, but Landry did confirm that the SGC had expedited John's citizenship and Madison's adoption. "It was the least we could do after Miss Madison's breakthrough," he said to their stunned faces. "Oh, and because of that, the SGC has formally put Madison M. Miller on the payroll. Since she is underage, the money comes to you as  guardian, Dr. McKay. You've all earned bonuses as well, in thanks for your input in the war with the Ori." 

The 'bonus' turned out to be an extremely hefty sum. It didn't take Madison long to realize that some of it was hers and hers alone; her eyes lit up in unholy glee and Rodney sighed.

Carter pulled Rodney aside during their med exams. "Could I come with you to the house?" she asked quietly. "I can get a hotel room, and I'll take Maddie shopping as payment, but I need to work on the construction of the new ZPMs. We've hit a snag and I think she -- well, the two of you, actually -- might be able to help." As Rodney opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, she added, "You don't have to gloat, Rodney, I'm well aware I'm asking for help."

Rodney couldn't keep the grin in. "Well, all right. But you can stay with us, the sofa pulls out and it's not too bad. Then you can be the star in the early-morning-monster show."

John didn't have any problems with it either so the four of them were beamed directly to the house by the Odyssey, in geosynchronous orbit. It was late July in Toronto, warm and muggy, and it was weird, as Madison said a few times. Weird to return to the house that had been theirs for so long, weird to realize that this building was no longer _home_ but someplace visited occasionally. After only seven months, Atlantis had become home. 

Rodney put Madison and Carter in charge of cleaning up the detritus of Christmas -- gifts and other things that hadn't been put away because of their forced exit -- while he found the boxes for the Christmas ornaments and decorations. The tech who had closed up shop for them managed to get the tree out, but he wouldn't have known where to put the other stuff so he left it in a pile on the sofa. Rodney sorted and re-wrapped everything before carefully putting it all away, making a mental note to make sure they were sent to Atlantis.

John checked over the kitchen, threw a few things away, then took the truck to the grocery store. He returned looking a little wild-eyed. "I don't think I'm ever going to mock you for anxiety attacks again," he said, bringing in the last bag. 

Rodney stopped putting groceries away and turned. "Huh?"

"I think every person in Toronto was in that store. And the Muzak... If I ever tell you I like Hendrix on Muzak, just shoot me. I'll even provide the gun and the bullet."

Dinner was pizza, to Madison's delight. By nine in the evening -- and that was another thing to get used to again, since they were no longer in Atlantis' twenty-five-point-two hour day where one in the afternoon would be thirteen o'clock, which always made Madison giggle -- they were ready to drop. Rodney gathered bedding while John pulled out the sofa. Madison had already crashed and Rodney let the bath go in favor of peace and quiet.

They were at least comfortable, though their bed in Atlantis was bigger. "I called and made an appointment with what's-his-name, the lawyer," Rodney said, yawning.

"Desrochier," John said, stretching out under the covers. 

"Whatever. Eleven-thirty. He'll have all the info we need."

"Cool." John yawned which set Rodney off again. "We need to hit Phelps, too, give them the transcripts. Oh, and one of the messages on the answering machine was from the nursing home, about Mrs. Delacroix. It's a couple weeks old."

"Oh, yeah?" Rodney was fading fast.

"Yeah. She's... they figure she's only got a few more weeks, a couple of months at best. I'm kind of surprised she's still alive." 

"Oh." That woke him up. "Do you think we should..."

John spooned up behind him, wrapping him in strong arms. "I don't know. On the one hand, yeah, but..."

"Yeah." Rodney said as he settled in.

John was drifting off too. "Talk about it tomorrow," he managed. "When we give Carter the list of things Madison needs."

"Okay." 

* * *

Carter and Madison took the truck to go shopping, leaving at an absurdly early time in the morning, so Rodney drove the Prius to their meeting with the lawyer. The first thing out of the guy's mouth was, "I don't know what multi-national you work for, but if they need any attorneys, please give them my name and address." It seemed he was incredibly impressed with how fast and problem-free the citizenship and adoption process had gone.

John had to sign at least a ream and a half of paperwork, then there were other things, like swearing in ceremonies, new licenses... and everything was done in triplicate and the copies had copies and even more copies. The formal adoption hearing would be the next Tuesday, and Madison had to appear with John, as would Rodney, as principle guardian. 

They got home late in the afternoon to a house empty of people but filled with bags and bags of things. It was mostly clothing, but included a lot of other stuff -- kneepads, elbow-pads and a helmet as well as at least three pairs of shoes and something that looked suspiciously like a large, expensive iPod. There was a note on the fridge that they'd transported to the Odyssey but would be back before five, local. Since they had an hour until that time, John began dinner. Rodney sat at the kitchen table and kept him company, trying to get all the paperwork straight and decide which went into their safe in Atlantis and which went into the safety deposit box in Toronto. 

"Okay, I thought you idiots in the States had it bad," Rodney groused, trying to keep the copies and copies of paper straight. "Why does everything have to be done in triplicate and the copies made into copies?"

"I don't know," John said, chopping something. "It's like calling any government agency 'paperless.'"

"No such thing," Rodney said, finally finding the last rotten form that had been filled out. "We're going to need a crate just to carry the paperwork."

John was silent for a while, his back to Rodney as he worked at the counter. "Do you..."

Rodney looked up but John didn't turn. Here we go, Rodney thought. "Do I what?"

After another few minutes during which John chopped whatever it was into component atoms, he finally continued. "I was wondering if we should... keep the house. You know, as a, as a..."

"Because we're not going to be here very often?" Rodney supplied. He'd already thought of this and had ideas, but he wanted to hear John's first.

"Yeah, I guess." 

"I've thought about it," Rodney said and John turned, giving him a raised eyebrow. "It has... well, this place, Toronto... it's where we grew up. I didn't keep Jeannie's house, though I could have, but it was too full of memories." He sighed. "I'd rather keep it for a while, but when Madison is old enough for college, we might think about buying some place close to where she'll go."

"Like where?" John asked, going back to his chopping.

"I don't know, she could go anywhere. MIT?"

"Ugh." John shuddered dramatically. "You think the winters are bad _here_?"

"They're not _that_ bad, I went there and..." Rodney interrupted himself. "Well, yeah, okay. Cal Tech."

"That's a possibility," John allowed. "Oxford?"

"Hm. Maybe." Rodney leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to have to go to Phelps to drop off her transcripts, but I think she would be able to matriculate by taking her college boards... maybe by fifteen or sixteen."

"What, and miss out on the whole SAT adventure?" John asked.

"Oh, don't you even--"

John was spared Rodney's rant against the whole testing complex by a familiar hum and giggles -- the blonde bombshells were back. Rodney turned in his chair to see them as they came into the kitchen. "Oh my God."

John looked up and his jaw dropped. "Madison?"

"Uh-huh!" Madison skipped happily into the kitchen in front of a slightly sheepish Carter. "Do you like it?"

Madison had cut her hair -- the long, silky stuff that neither John nor Rodney knew how to care for properly -- cut it so it was a copy of Carter's. "You cut your hair," Rodney said, dumbfounded.

"Yep! I wanted it to look like Sam's. When's dinner?"

* * *

The rest of that night, Rodney couldn't stop looking at Madison. She looked so much older, less the infant, the baby girl who needed hugs, and more the young woman she was going to be, soon. More than that, she looked almost like a clone of Samantha Carter and Rodney was having severe difficulty getting past that idea. Apparently John was too.

Madison was coming up on seven, and suddenly the gap between six and seven seemed like a bottomless chasm. Things that had seemed abstract -- like college, like dating -- were suddenly sharp and clear as coming, sooner rather than later. She'd been losing her baby teeth; she'd had a growth spurt which turned a lot of baby fat into height; her appetite had calmed down to something actually manageable; and Teyla (and probably Sam as well) had already opened up a dialogue with her about puberty and menstrual cycles. 

Was this what all parents went through? This horrible realization that the dependant baby was suddenly walking out the door? Rodney had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach -- he really wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this, to teach, to love Madison, then to let her go.

His saving grace was John. Every time Rodney glanced at John, he saw John looking at Madison with the same expression Rodney thought was on his own face. They'd get through it, somehow. Rodney just hoped his heart and his sanity were still in one piece at the end of it.

John had found his own way to spend time with Madison -- he'd started taking her with him on his morning runs. They had been doing it at least three times a week while on Atlantis, but after her shoes self-destructed, she'd had to stop. One of the first items on her clothing list was running shoes (which turned out to be really stupid, pink things that actually _lit up_ when you walked) and now, he supposed she'd be running with John again. It _was_ the best way to burn off sugar, since she had no ballet classes in Atlantis.

Rodney managed to get back into the conversation when Madison said, "Unca Mer, I want to go see Mrs. Delacroix."

John winced. "Um... about her..."

"There was a message on the machine when we got home, about her," Rodney said and John gave him a grateful look. Madison must have heard the recording. "It was a couple of weeks old, and it said she was... well, she was getting worse very rapidly." He would never lie to Madison, not even a sin of omission; he had promised Jeannie's spirit.

She was nodding, her little face sober. "I know," she said. "Well, I don't _know_ know, but she told me she would be gone before fall. I want to go see her to say goodbye." 

"Are you sure, Maddie?" John asked quietly. "It's not going to be fun, you know. She's got a neurological wasting disease, she might not even be conscious of you or even know who you are."

Madison pursed her lips and lifted her chin. "I know. She told me what it was and I looked it up. It's called PSP, Progressive Su--Supernatural? I remember the last word is palsy and the books said it was like Parkinson's, and Dr. Carson told me about that. But she'd know I was there, and..." She took a deep breath. "I didn't get to say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy. So I want to say goodbye to her while I still can."

Well, what was Rodney going to say to that? He looked at Carter who was sitting on the floor next to Madison; they had been taking clothing out of bags and removing tags. She looked as frozen and uncomfortable as Rodney, almost, but obviously wouldn't interfere. 

A quick glance to John, who took a deep breath then nodded slightly, before Rodney said, "Okay. We can go visit tomorrow. The ceremony thing for John's citizenship and your formal adoption are slated for next Tuesday and you've got to be there, so keep that in mind."

"Okay." Madison had folded  her clothing -- not neatly, but they were definitely folded --and continued. "Can I use the computer, Unca Mer? I want to see if Chrisobel or Shannon are on AIM."

"Put your clothes away first," Rodney said. "Then yes, you can have an hour." 

John went into the kitchen and returned with three beers, even as Madison went into Rodney's office to use his laptop. "You sure about tomorrow?" he asked in a low voice.

Carter had boosted herself up onto the sofa. "My grandmother died of leukemia when I was ten. It wasn't a pleasant time visiting her, but I was glad I had once she was finally gone."

Rodney sighed. "We only got to spend a couple weeks with Mrs. Delacroix before we had to leave, but Madison grew very attached to her. Even called her 'gramma.' So yeah, I think we should at least visit." He took a drink of his beer. "Not that I'm looking forward to it or anything."

"I can understand that," Carter replied with some sympathy. "I'm going to beam up first thing in the morning, Kvasier is due in-system by around six local. I'm going to run some simulations with him, then bring the results down. You going to be able to help us by the afternoon?"

"Sure." Rodney slumped back on his chair. Damn, he missed his favorite chair -- just another reason to get back to Atlantis soon.

John was frowning. "Hey, you know what? We haven't heard a word from your squirrelly mother all the time we've been gone. That's kind of weird, don't you think? Especially since she was acting so weird the last time we saw her."

"Are you looking a gift horse in the mouth there, Sheppard?" Rodney asked. "The less we hear from her the happier I'll be." 

* * *

It was every bit as bad as Rodney had been afraid it would be. Mrs. Delacroix couldn't move by herself or swallow or even breathe easily. She was on oxygen but the staff at the nursing home said she had a 'do not resuscitate' order, which had been put in place over a year ago by Mrs. Delacroix herself. They took care of her, they kept her as comfortable as possible and talked to her as much as they could, but they knew it was only a matter of time before she would essentially starve to death as her brain self-destructed. It was the most  common way patients with such neurological diseases finally died.

The nursing home staff was excellent. She had not been spectacularly rich in life, but had made wise choices in her insurance care; thus she was able to be cared for in the best place possible. Her principle caregiver was an LPN, Gary Walker. He filled them in as he lead them to her room. "She can hear, though not well, but she can't move her eyes properly. She won't see you unless you get right into her field of vision or turn her head to have her look."

Madison was holding their hands tightly as they moved down the hall. The patients in the nursing home ranged from late middle age to very elderly, from fairly mobile to completely bedridden. It was awkward for Rodney; he disliked hospitals and had never felt comfortable with the elderly. Plus there was a woman who looked to be in her late forties with Alzheimer's -- she followed them around and asked repeatedly where her mother was.

The LPN, Walker, led them to Mrs. Delacroix's room then gently steered the other woman away. The room was filled with muted sunlight, plants (most green but a few flowers as well), and the constant bubbling of the oxygen tank. She looked dreadful, her skin sallow and dry and hanging from her bones like an ill-fitting suit. 

Madison stopped inside the door and looked around, as if she were memorizing what it looked like. Then she released their hands and confidently moved to the bed. "Be careful, Beav," John said softly.

"I know," she replied. Mrs. Delacroix seemed to be staring at the ceiling and Rodney remembered what the nurse said about moving her eyes. What a horrible thing, to be trapped inside one's own body, unable to move or even see properly, Rodney thought. Madison moved to the side away from the oxygen tank, carefully climbed onto the bed and gently turned Mrs. Delacroix's head in her direction. "Hi, Gramma," she said, speaking softly and clearly.

Rodney was standing across the small room from them, but he could have sworn that Mrs. Delacroix smiled. In that moment, he was prouder of Madison than he'd ever been.

* * *

According to the LPN, Mrs. Delacroix would probably die within the week -- she had been getting progressively weaker. They expected her to lapse into a coma and from there, to simply stop. Madison had asked and had nodded, once told. It didn't prevent her from visiting, though. In fact, she'd stayed for over an hour with Mrs. Delacroix, talking to her and helping her drink water -- solid food was well beyond her, now.

"We can come back tomorrow?" she asked as they headed back to the house.

"I suppose," Rodney said, glancing at John. "We've got no place else to be until next Tuesday." A big part of him wanted to say no, though. This glimpse of age and mortality made him profoundly depressed. It was one thing to die young and dramatically from chasing life-sucking alien vampires, it was something else entirely to realize you were going to die some day, and you couldn't change that at all.

Carter was back when they arrived home and she had the results to the simulations, so Rodney and Madison joined her at the dining room table to look them over while John did his couch potato impression in front of the TV and watched sports. All three of them were a little glad to be back Earth-side, though Rodney suspected they would all become screamingly bored before it was time to return. 

One quiet afternoon, when Carter was running simulations and TV had lost its allure, John was out in the backyard with Madison, doing something that was undoubtedly going to make them grubby. Rodney answered a knock on the door to see a man in uniform, a U.S. Army lieutenant, holding a large, stuffed manila envelope. "Good morning, sir. Lieutenant Edward Davies, United States Army. I'm looking for John Alan Sheppard, Jr.?"

"He's out back," Rodney said, frowning. "Come in, I'll get him." He left the man in the front hall and went out to the back deck. "Excuse me, Tarzan of the backyard jungle, there's a visitor for you."

John looked up. He was sprawled on the grass being used as a potting shed -- Madison was ripping up and sprinkling grass all over him. "Who is it?"

"U.S. Army suit," Rodney said, shrugging. "Looks like there's some kind of package for you."

Frowning, John got to his feet, brushed off some of the grass and went into the house. The Army guy was still in the front hall, standing at what Rodney thought was parade rest.

"John Alan Sheppard, Junior?" he asked as John came into view and Rodney saw John hesitate and tense.

"Yeah?"

"I need to see some identification, sir."

After a moment, John reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "If you want the passport you're going to go away disappointed. I'm in the process of becoming Canadian."

"No, sir, this is fine." After duly examining John's driver's license, he handed it back. "This package is for you," he said. "It concerns your father. As I understand it, there was some difficulty in locating you."

"Obviously no one was looking very hard," John muttered but took the stuffed manila envelope.

"I wouldn't know, sir." The man snapped to attention. "Good day to you, sir." Turning on his heel, he left, leaving a surprised Rodney behind.

"What is it?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know?" John replied. He was looking at the package in his hand like it was filled with scorpions. 

"Well come back to the kitchen and we'll find out."

John sat at the table and opened the envelope, spilling the contents out. There was a wallet, a few small black cases, several letters and some wrinkled-up pictures. Rodney pulled one of them out and smoothed it over -- it was a smaller copy of the picture John had on his side of their bed -- an excited and grinning young John Sheppard with Evel Knievel -- a picture John had never explained. 

Rodney blinked and thought, oh, no. "It's your dad's stuff, isn't it?"

John had opened the wallet and looked frozen in place. "Yeah," he finally breathed.

Rodney picked up the most official-looking envelope and opened it, slipping the single sheet of paper out and flattening it on the table. It didn't need to be right-side-up for him to determine what it said -- certain words just jumped off the page. Indigent. Homeless. Exposure. Dead.

He had a feeling he knew what the small black cases contained, and was proven right when John opened one. It contained a Bronze Star medal, the ribbon a little frayed. There were four of the cases altogether but John only opened the one.

"The old bastard," John murmured in a bland voice that didn't fool Rodney any more. "Dead for eight years and I didn't even know it."

After a few minutes, John picked up the manila folder and stuffed everything back into it. Then he stood and headed for the backdoor. "John?" Rodney asked. "What do you--"

"I don't know, anything. Toss it. Burn it." John's back was ramrod straight and he didn't look back. 

Taking the time to make sure everything was folded and closed tight, Rodney took the package into his office and added it to the pile of non-essential papers. Some day, he thought, John would be able to look at the remains of his father and put his ghost to rest. He'd keep it until that time.

* * *

Every day Mrs. Delacroix faded a little more, but Madison never wavered in her attentions. She would sit by her side and read her stories, or the newspaper, or just tell her about the day outside. Rodney was impressed by the nursing home; it was terribly expensive, but he'd heard horror stories about even the most luxurious. 

Work on the ZedPM canister problem was only inching along. They were getting closer, though Rodney and Madison were getting a bit testy at each other about the whole thing -- at one point, he overheard Carter say to John, "I'm beginning to feel like a referee," and that just wasn't the case. Or maybe it was.

On Saturday, the weekend before the citizenship and adoption, they discovered Mrs. Delacroix had gone into a coma sometime during the night. She was completely unresponsive to outside stimuli. Walker, the LPN, came to greet them when they got to Mrs. Delacroix's floor and gave them the bad news. "There's something we've been holding for you from her, as well," he said. "I was to give it to you about now." 

John took the envelope and thanked Walker before joining Rodney and Madison as they walked down the hall to her room. They didn't stay long; she was obviously slipping further and further away from them. Madison climbed on her bed and whispered briefly in her ear, kissed her cheek, then they left. 

The envelope consisted of some paperwork and a letter to them. Mrs. Delacroix had a small estate and most of what was left, after paying her nursing home essentials, went to charity. She had, however, mentioned Madison in her will. Since she had no family left, she had bequeathed her family heirlooms to Madison -- some Fostoria crystal pieces, a set of hand-painted dishes, a case of silver flatware, and diamonds; a necklace, bracelet, two rings and earrings. Her family had evidently been rather wealthy in their past, but her line ended with her. She wrote a letter to Rodney and John that was put into her will, in which she told them in no uncertain terms that they were to accept the gifts in Madison's name and let them be hers when she was an adult, so they wouldn't go to waste. The items were stored in a climate-controlled, secure storage facility, and they made plans to visit her lawyer and to make sure all of it to be delivered to the house so it could be transported to the Daedalus and from there to Atlantis. 

Later that afternoon, just before dinner, they received the phone call telling them Mrs. Delacroix had died. There was to be no ceremony or wake for her, just cremation and interment. Madison just nodded, as if she weren't surprised, and sat to eat. 

After dinner, while John did dishes, Rodney, Madison and Carter sat at the dining room table to tackle the ZedPM issue. Somehow, Rodney and Madison ended up yelling at each other. Rodney couldn't even say what they were yelling -- he was talking as fast as he could because when he didn't, Madison ran roughshod over him. The whole argument culminated in Madison screaming "I hate you!" at Rodney, bursting in to tears and running for her room. The entire house shook from the slam of her bedroom door.

To Rodney, it was as if she had stabbed him through his heart. Intellectually, he knew that most children went through this phase and what they said didn't really matter. It still hurt, though. Most of him wanted to jump up and follow her -- to do what, he wasn't sure. Spank her? Give her a time-out? Hug her? Cry with her?

Luckily for Rodney, he had two other people to help him. Carter patted his hand before rising. "I'll go check on her," she said.

John sat in the chair Carter vacated and put a beer in front of Rodney. "You know she didn't mean that, right?"

Rodney couldn't raise his head to look at John, he was too afraid he'd start crying. 

Apparently, that gave John his answer. "I've only seen you speechless once or twice but it was always about  Madison." Rodney took a shaky breath and nodded. "It'll be okay. I think I know what's caused this, actually, and I'm pretty sure you do as well."

Yeah, Rodney had a couple of clues. They should have stayed in Atlantis.

"I'm going to check on both of them," John said as he rose. 

Rodney gulped half his beer down in one go, then closed his eyes. This was just so much worse than he'd ever imagined. He must have sat at the table, feeling sorry for himself, for quite a long time. Finally, John and Carter emerged. "Go see her, Rodney," Carter said gently.

Madison was on her bed, curled into a ball with her stuffed dog's ragged ear the only part of it peeking out. She was shaking and Rodney's first impulse was to pull her into his embrace. He was just so unsuited for this whole thing of being a parent, and he knew, just knew that he was going to screw up Madison; hell, he probably had already.

He sat carefully on the bed next to her. "Three-M?"

She curled up into even a tighter ball and didn't respond.

Rodney put his hand on her back and rubbed it soothingly. "It's okay," he murmured. "But I think we'd better talk about it, don't you?"

She wouldn't uncurl and Rodney sighed. Time to change tactics. "What did you whisper to Mrs. Delacroix before we left today?"

That was enough of a non sequitur that her head came up, a little bit. "I told her... I said it's okay," she said in the tiniest of voices. "I told her she could go now, that it was okay, and... and..." It was difficult, but Rodney managed to keep quiet until she spoke again. "And I said I loved her and asked her to see Mommy and Daddy and tell them I'm okay and I love them too, and Unca Mer? I miss my... my Mommy and Daddy..."

There was a thick blockage in Rodney's throat, big enough to almost keep him from breathing, from talking. With his hands, he gently rolled Madison over and tucked her onto his lap, holding her tightly. She was still crying, and he got a wad of tissues to help blot her face. So much for her religious difficulties, he thought.

When she could speak again, she lifted her tear-streaked face to his. "I wanna go home."

He kissed her forehead. "I do too, and we will, soon. The only thing holding us here is the citizenship thing..." Rodney stopped with sudden thought. "Wait. After that, we really don't have to stay here. Why don't we go somewhere else, like... like..."

"Disney World?" she asked.

He continued to hold her tightly as he replied with faked scorn, "Oh, please. Like I would ever give that evil empire any of our money! But there are other places... I think there's one of those SeaWorld places outside Cleveland, and there's a big amusement park somewhere on Lake Erie, I'm not sure where though." 

"Cedar Point," John said. He was standing in the doorway, slouching against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. "They've got one of the world's biggest wooden roller-coasters, I think -- or at least they did." 

"We can do that?" Madison said, uncurling further. "Really?"

John walked into the room and tousled Madison's hair. "I don't see why not," he said, smiling at the two of them.

Rodney sighed, grateful another hurdle had been overcome.

* * *

Carter got recalled to the SGC the day after that, she had a mission with SG-1. She said she'd be back as soon as she could, but charged them with continued work on the container problem while she was gone.

Early Tuesday morning, the three of them trooped over to the courthouse to swear John in as a Canadian citizen. It entailed a lot of paperwork, a lot of signing and waiting around and bad jokes, at least on John's side. At one point, he asked if he'd have to promise to only eat Tim Horton's donuts and sing _Oh, Canada_ all the way through. Rodney told him no, but he'd have to sing _Star-Spangled Banner_ backwards.

They were a mostly happy group as they left the courtroom, finally, after several hours. As they walked out of the room and into the hallway, a late-middle-aged woman sitting on a bench across from the doors stood and approached them. Rodney did a double take as he saw her, and she smiled. "Hello, Meredith."

It took him a moment to remember her name. "Joyce?"

She nodded, extending her hand to shake his. "I'm surprised you remembered me; it's been a long time. How have you been? And I'm led to believe congratulations are in order."

Rodney felt like a fish out of water. "Uh... thank you? What are... How did...?"

"I'm sorry for interrupting your day, but I wasn't sure I could find where you lived, and I do need to talk to you."

John had come up to flank Rodney, holding Madison's hand and putting her between them. "Rodney?" 

"Um, this is Joyce, uh... my..."

She saved him with a smile. "Joyce Maddox Clay, Branwen's cousin. My mother was her aunt, Deirdre Maddox Hunt." She stuck out her hand.

"John Sheppard." John took her hand briefly though he turned immediately to Rodney. "What is...?"

"Is there somewhere we can speak in private?" she asked. "There are some things I think you should know, Meredith, and though you're not going to like them, I really think you'll agree you're better off knowing."

John was looking at him for direction but Rodney felt brain-dead. "I... I suppose..."

"There's a cafeteria on the lower level," John supplied. "And a playground across the road in the park?"

"We could go to the park?" Madison asked, still warily watching Joyce.

Joyce smiled. "Hello, young lady. I guess you're Madison? I knew your mom, but I hadn't seen her for a long time. You look a lot like her."

Madison smiled shyly. "Are you my aunt?" she asked.

"Um..." Joyce looked at Rodney. "To be honest? I haven't got a clue. Your grandmom was my mother's niece. Let's just call it family and leave it to that, okay?"

Madison grinned. "Okay. Unca Mer, can I go to the playground?"

Rodney still felt shocked. "Okay, sure," he said. 

"Should I stay?" John murmured, but after a moment's thought, Rodney shook his head. John squeezed his arm. "Okay. C'mon, Beav, let's go to the park. I've got the cell, I'll come get you if we get a call."

The cafeteria downstairs was similar to every cafeteria in a governmental or hospital complex -- clean, plastic and boring. They got coffee just because it was expected and sat together at one of the molded booths. "You're looking well," Joyce said. She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced.

Rodney could drink any coffee, bad or good, but he had to add a lot of sugar to it to make the swill he bought even marginally drinkable. "Thanks. You too... I haven't seen you in... years, I guess."

"You were twenty, I think, your first master's degree. I happened to be in Boston, on business."

"That's right." Rodney blinked, he barely remembered seeing her then. His father had just died and he was still reeling from the shock of it. "I'd completely forgotten that."

She smiled and looked down. "It doesn't surprise me, Meredith. So many things happened that year."

"Yeah." Obviously. "How did you know to find us here?"

Joyce took a deep breath and wouldn't meet his gaze. "Your mother told me. She has a... friend who works here in records. She told me about your sister dying, about Madison, even about your wedding, though she seems to think there's something perverted about it." She sighed. "Your young man seems like quite a catch. Are you happy?"

The question seemed honest enough. "Yes," Rodney replied, almost without thinking. "Very happy."

"Good. That's all that counts." She still wouldn't look up. "I'm so very sorry about Jeannie and her husband."

Now it was Rodney's turn to look into his cup. "Thanks." He wanted to shake some answers out of her but John must have been rubbing off on him -- he was able to wait until she started talking again.

"Do you remember when my mother died?" she asked. "You were eight or nine, I think."

"Yeah, I remember," Rodney said. As if he couldn't.

"Do you know all the controversy behind it?" she asked, still in a soft voice.

"Controversy?" That was unexpected. "No, I don't know anything about it."

She chuckled. "That would be because of the Maddox pride and stubbornness, I expect, and I'd bet it's why you don't know the full story. It's long, but I think you need to know." She took a deep breath. "When your mother married your father, she was disowned by the Maddox clan. Your father was perceived as 'beneath' her, no matter that he was an apparent genius -- the McKay family was a highland Scot clan and therefore, Not Good Enough." She smiled sardonically. "I was very lucky to have the only irreverent member of the clan as my mother; she always managed to keep it in perspective. But then again, she married an 'acceptable' man, and so was never forced to work for her upkeep."

Finally, she raised her head and her gaze met Rodney's. "Your mother was cut off completely for not only marrying beneath her social stature but for marrying for -- of all things -- love. She had to go to work for a living, something else that was seen as beneath the Maddox clan. But she had a sharp nose for business and did very well for herself." She smiled. "Mom was always very complimentary of her, proud of her, thought she was the only Maddox worth a damn. And oh, my, that did piss off grandmom to hear that." The smile she gave Rodney was almost impish.

"By the time Mom died, I'd come into my own chunk of the Maddox fortune, not that I needed it. So Mom named Branwen as her principle heir, basically giving her the fortune she felt was due her. And again, that just pissed off everyone in the family. I think Mom did it almost as sort of a last goad, getting even with them. That helped your family, didn't it?"

As if Rodney could forget that, either. "Yes."

His expression must have given him away, because she nodded and looked down, avoiding his gaze again. "Ah. Yes. I guess I can infer where _that_ came from. Branwen never was a gentle-spoken person. I never really liked her very much, but I did respect her. Mom had discussed her will with me long before she died, and I had no problems accepting it." She looked back up. "Mom died of breast cancer -- it runs in the female side of the Maddox family and that's something you need to make sure Madison knows about -- and that's what's killing Branwen now."

Rodney was so completely at a loss for words that the last of her words took a minute to sink in. "Killing?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have known except I was in the neighborhood and stopped by. She has a private nurse, since she refuses to go to a hospice." 

"I..."

"You knew she had a mastectomy, didn't you?"

A mastectomy? "No..." Rodney liked to be in control, John called him a control freak, and he was so out of control of the conversation he was in it was making him dizzy.

"She didn't tell you." It wasn't a question, though Rodney nodded. "It was four or five years ago, a modified radical mastectomy. She underwent chemo and radiation, and was thought to be cancer free. But she wasn't. It came back." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Meredith, she should have told you or at least told your sister."

There was a sharp pain in Rodney's chest and he had no idea how to get rid of it. It was like his whole world had turned upside down, like all the laws of physics had been revoked, like the floor had dropped out from under his feet and left him floating in a void. "Why..." He had to clear his throat before he could speak further. "Why didn't she tell me? Tell us? Why did she have to be..." So hateful, so spiteful, so horrible.

"I don't know." Joyce looked at him with sympathy. "I only know the story as I saw it from my end. You'll have to ask her for the rest." She glanced down before continuing, in a soft voice. "And you might want to do that quickly. It's stage four -- she doesn't have a lot of time left."

* * *

They were supposed to be working on the ZedPM project, but Rodney couldn't, his whole being was numb and shocked. Madison seemed to sense his mood because she wanted to sit with him and cuddle a lot, giving him little worried glances, or exchanging them with John. They were also supposed to be planning their escape into the world of amusement parks, but Rodney was so spacey he didn't even hear John bring up the subject.

After dinner, Madison got an hour's time on the computer and John sat down on the sofa with Rodney. "You need to talk to me, McKay," he said in a low voice. "You're scaring Madison. Hell, you're scaring me." He handed Rodney a bottle of beer, twin to the one he held in his hand.

It took a few false starts and a couple of good swigs of beer, but Rodney finally managed to talk. Once he started, however, it seemed he couldn't stop -- he told John everything Joyce had said, including the breast cancer thing (which, in retrospect, was quite important) and his shock over hearing it. 

John just sat and listened, gave him an earnest look and let one of his hands rest on the back of Rodney's neck, a warm, soothing touch. By the time Rodney wound down, he was shaking. They were silent for a long time, hearing Madison tapping on the keys of the laptop in the dining room.

After a few minutes of nothing but breathing, John said, "What do you want to do? Do you want to go see her?"

"I don't know," Rodney replied. He finished his beer. "I suppose I should," he added. "Not that I want to or anything. She's dying and not only did I not know, apparently three-quarters of my entire childhood was a lie." He turned to John, not above pleading for help. "What should I do? What can I say to her?" 

John leaned back against the back of the couch, his hand gently pulling Rodney down with him, so his head was resting on John's chest, held in place by John's warm hand on the back of his neck. With a sigh, Rodney allowed himself to be comforted and reassured. John was such a tactile person -- people said he didn't touch but he did, he touched all the time. Thing was, he only touched those closest to him and never wasted a touch. When you had been touched by John Sheppard, you knew how much he cared for you.

"I think you should see her," John finally said. His thumb began circling at the base of Rodney's neck, pressing out the tension there. "I'll go with you -- unless you don't want me to. I know I sound like Heightmeyer, but you need closure with her, with that part of your life."

Rodney swallowed. "Yeah, I guess so." He thought but didn't add, just as you need closure with your father.

"Madison has been invited over to the Burmendez place tomorrow. I was thinking we could  make plans to visit Cedar Point -- but that can wait. We've got time."

Before Rodney could reply, Madison came into the room. She saw them cuddled up on the sofa and happily wormed her way in between them, ignoring their laughing protests and once again Rodney thought they should wear athletic cups around her, she was a menace to sensitive bits. "Can I go to Chrisobel's house tomorrow?" she asked, once she was settled between them. 

"Yeah," Rodney replied. He smoothed back her hair. "Yeah, you can go there."

* * *

John took the three of them out for breakfast the next morning. They'd had word from Carter -- well, from SGC -- that SG1 wouldn't be returning to Earth for several days, maybe a week, which meant they could shelve the ZedPM project in favor of Rodney raking himself over hot coals. Actually, he decided, that metaphor was skewed -- it was more like being stung by fire ants than hot coals. Active torture, rather than passive. He was able to keep the bubble of hysteria down, but only just.

They dropped Madison at the Burmendez's house and made sure Meritas had their cell number. Then Rodney drove them to the house where his mother lived.

He pulled up into the long driveway and parked. John let out one long, sliding whistle. "You weren't kidding, were you?" he asked softly. "This is some place." There was another car in the driveway but it was a compact car, so not hers. The Rolls was probably in the back garage. John opened the door on his side but Rodney was frozen, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "Rodney?"

Rodney pulled in a ragged breath and closed his eyes. "Just... give me a minute." 

John put his hand on one of Rodney's; his skin was warm. "We don't have to do this," he began, but Rodney shook his head.

"No, we do. I do. If I don't, I'll always wonder and that's worse than knowing." A few minutes later, he managed to pry his fingers off the steering wheel and get out of the car. John walked close by his side, something he appreciated since he wasn't sure he wouldn't either fall down or double over and be sick all over the expensive driveway.

The doorbell brought a tall, heavy-set man to the door. "May I help you?"

"Yes," Rodney said, trying for authoritative and failing utterly. "I'm... we're here to see Mrs. McKay. Branwen."

"Mrs. McKay is not receiving--"

"She'll see me. I'm her son, Dr. McKay. And when you announce me, make sure to tell her that I spoke with Joyce."

The man looked suspicious, but let them into the foyer before disappearing back into the labyrinth of the house. John was looking around like a tourist, his mouth open and his eyes almost popping out of his head. "Wow. Nice," he muttered. Well, yeah, that was one way to put it. Rodney had always thought 'ostentatious' was a better word. Or maybe 'obscene.'

After a few minutes, an older woman came down the stairs to greet them. "Hello, I'm Margaret Spruill. You must be Dr. Meredith McKay?" She held out her hand to Rodney.

"Yes, I'm... Who are you?" He took her hand gingerly in one of his own.

"I'm Branwen's caretaker, her in-house nurse. I've been with her for a bit over two months." She motioned them to the door on the left, the one that led to the parlor, one of the many places he wasn't supposed to visit when he was a boy. "I must say, I'm glad to meet you, Dr. McKay. And you have my sympathy on the death of your sister."

Rodney really, really hated being without words and it seemed to be happening more and more frequently of late. "Thank you," he managed to get out, though he wasn't sure how or why he said it.

"John Sheppard," John said, holding his hand out to the... nurse person.

"Ah, yes." She had a rather mischievous grin, he thought. "The 'perversion.' It's lovely to meet you too." They shook hands but Rodney was still on infinite loop of mild hysteria. "Please, let's sit. Branwen is asleep and will remain so for fifteen minutes to half an hour, I hope. Her pain meds are beginning to lose efficacy as her system becomes used to them."

Rodney found himself sitting on one of the divans in the parlor next to John, close enough to touch. John pressed his thigh against Rodney's and Rodney could tell he was getting careful looks aimed at him. "You're... her nurse."

"Yes." She smiled sadly as she took a seat on one of the two chairs facing the divan, where Rodney and John sat. "What I need to tell you, Dr. McKay, Mr. Sheppard, isn't strictly allowed under patient confidentiality rules. However, she hasn't specifically forbidden you this knowledge and you _are_ her next of kin, save for a few, remote, cousins. In this instance, I feel no guilt in apprising you of her condition." She sighed and gave them a very earnest look. "Branwen is dying. I am not her doctor, but I know what clinical depression looks like and how people react while in it. In my estimation, you deserve to hear what's happening, whether or not she actually wants you to know at this point in time."   

Rodney spared a glance at John. "I understand," he said, almost meaning it.

She nodded before continuing. "Since the resurgence of her cancer, she's undergone extensive chemotherapy and radiation therapy, and is in-between chemo treatments at the moment. Her cancer is extremely wide-spread, which happens sometimes in such cases, not often, thank God, but frequently still." She looked between them. "You are aware that breast cancer runs in the Maddox family?"

"Yes, yes, Joyce told me," Rodney said, impatient for her to get on with it. Limbs should be severed neatly and immediately, no need to dwell on it.

The nurse-person smiled. "Good, I'm glad you saw Joyce. I was the one who pointed her at you, since a family history of breast cancer could have a bearing on your niece's health." She paused before continuing. "The new cancer appears to have started in her liver and it had spread extensively before she was diagnosed."

"Why?" Rodney blurted. "How could she just... not... How could she have not known?"

"It is possible, unfortunately." Her face was a mask of sympathy. "There are many types of cancer -- some more aggressive than others -- and even though she was pronounced cancer-free over a year ago, it's often a transitory status at best. And she doesn't have a very good self-preservation instinct, or if she had, she lost it during this round of therapy. I think it goes back to the clinical depression -- I've often found mood has a bearing on one's health. Depression is something that can be inherited as well, you must realize."

Rodney didn't know what to do, what to say. Each thing this woman said seemed to flay him alive.

"What's her prognosis, then?" John asked, breaking the silence.

"She will most likely die within a few months." At least she was blunt. "She has two more rounds of chemo but at this point, the medication is fighting a losing battle."

"So she's just getting pain management medications?" Thank God John could talk, could articulate all the questions locked inside Rodney's brain.

"Mostly, yes, that's right. My job is to monitor her medicine intake, her chemo and her reaction to both." She smiled again. "And she's going to be incredibly upset with me for telling you all that."

"She's not a very nice person," John said, and Rodney agreed with _that_ sentiment.

"No. She's not." Her smile was rueful. "I'm routinely fired at least once a day, twice or even three times if the pain is really bad."

Rodney blinked at her. "Why the hell do you stay, then?"

"Well, she thinks I'm after her money." Yes, that was definitely mischief in her smile. "I'm not, so don't worry there. I have enough. I let her have her fantasies." She stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath. "I stay because she needs someone to be with her, all the time. She's terrified of dying alone, though she won't admit it. She's prickly and abrasive and has alienated both friends and relatives." The smile morphed into something sadder. "She needs someone to be here for her. I can do that, because I'm the next thing to a stranger -- she wouldn't accept anyone in her close family, I think due to her pride. So far, she hasn't found a way to piss me off enough to go, so I stay."

Rodney managed to call up enough spit to attempt to swallow the rock in his throat. He stared at the floor as he spoke, and his voice sounded painful to his ears. "Why didn't she... When did she find out?"

"It was a week or two before Christmas, I believe. A terrible way to spend the holidays, I imagine."

"I can think of worse," Rodney muttered, remembering painfully quiet and empty holidays in the places where he had lived.

The woman glanced at her watch. "Let me run upstairs and see if she's doing -- I don't like to leave her alone much. Stay put, I'll be right back."

Rodney felt like he was going to hyperventilate. He took deep breaths and it still felt as though there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. John didn't speak, just pressed his leg against Rodney's, reassuring him through touch.

A couple of minutes later, the nurse came back into the parlor; John and Rodney stood. "She's beginning to wake up, now. She really can't have any more vicodin or morphine for about an hour; to give her more risks her slipping into a coma. You should know that as her pain level rises, her frustration level does as well. The cancer has spread into one of her lungs, which makes her short of breath. I have an oxygen cannula on her and her bed is tilted up, but it doesn't help much." She gave them an earnest look. "I just want you to be prepared. She's even more irascible than usual, now."

Rodney didn't even know if that were _possible_. She was bad enough when she was content, though he realized he didn't really think she'd ever been content. Nor happy. He sighed and John reached out, touched his hand briefly, grounded him. He nodded and they went up the big stairs together.

As a boy, Rodney had been into his mother's bedroom maybe three times. His father's bedroom was farther down the hall and was always open to him. Rodney didn't think there was anything strange about his parents having separate bedrooms, it was only when he compared them to other people that he realized it wasn't the accepted norm.

The nurse motioned for them to stay in the hall as she entered the bedroom. Rodney stood as still as he ever got -- fidgeting, scuffing the carpet with a toe, looking anywhere but in the bedroom and listening to anything but the sound of his mother's voice. It was breathier, higher-pitched than he remembered it being.

"No! I do _not_ want to see him, them, tell them to go to hell!"

"Branwen, he's your son." The nurse's -- what was her name? -- voice was gentle and calming. "You know what the prognosis is, don't pass up this chance to see him, for him to see you."

"See me dying, you mean," she said, the bitterness in her tone very, very familiar. "Fine. Let the little idiot in. Let him have his gloat."

Rodney took a deep breath and tried to stop panicking. Then the door was all the way open and he saw his mother for the first time since Christmas.

She looked almost as bad as Mrs. Delacroix had. Her skin had a definite yellow tint to it, and her eyes, dark little agates bristling with anger, were ringed with bruises. She had lost a lot of weight and some of her hair -- a result of the chemo, he suspected. 

"Meredith." Her voice was shaking as much as her hands, which were moving so much they almost didn't look real. The scowl on her face wasn't so much frightening as it was sad. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Rodney swallowed and leaned a bit more into John. "I found out you were dying--"

"Never should have let that little idiot Joyce in here." She glared at him. "And you didn't see fit to bring my only granddaughter with you?"

"No." Rodney stood up straight. "I'm not going to let you get within a mile of her, Branwen."

"That's nice of you, to deny me access--"

"You never wanted 'access,'" Rodney snarled. Yes, he could deal with this version of his mother, the one that was so condescending and vindictive. The other, dying, version, he had real problems with. "You just wanted something else to control. And you're not going to get it, not in a million years."

"Which I don't have anyway," she wheezed. She tried to push herself more upright against her pillows and failed. The nurse, who had been monitoring the IV bags around Branwen's bed, gently helped her sit up better. The oxygen bubbled gently in a corner.

"You tried to _take_ her from me, even though I'm the legal guardian, the one Jeannie _chose_ \--"

"I tried to take her from you because of this... this... perversion you're involved with..." She glared at John, but John's Teflon outer coating was pretty damn good too, probably because of hanging around Rodney so much.

"You'll excuse me for thinking that our marriage is far less fucked up than yours ever was," John drawled. Only Rodney could tell how red-hot furious he was beneath the lazy outer shell. 

"Same sex marriages are legal in Canada, Branwen," Rodney said, making sure every syllable cut like a knife. "I don't think even all your money would 'fix' that." At her glare, he barked out a laugh. "And I'll bet you tried, didn't you?"

They stared at each other, her chin quivering in rage. "Look," John suddenly said, breaking the tableau. "We didn't come here to fight with you."

"Really? Then why _did_ you come here? To make sure you would have my estate? To find out how long I have left before dying?"

Rodney took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I don't want your money, Branwen. I don't want your things, your cars, your servants, the house that was never, ever mine in any sense of the word. You can do whatever you want with all of it." He took another breath. "And, if it does come to me, I will turn around and sell it, give the money to charity -- whichever one you hate the most -- and never see a dime."

Her eyes narrowed and her breathing was picking up, he could hear the wheezing. "Liar."

"No, I'm not." Rodney could out-stare a goddamned _Wraith_ if he had to -- one frail, sick bitch was a piece of cake. "I just wanted to ask you why."

She frowned. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you tell me, tell us? Why did you let us hate you, never tell us your side of the story? You were never around, you never played with us, took us--"

"Because I was always working!" she snapped. "Someone had to feed and clothe and shelter us!"

"Why? Why couldn't you take some time off to be a mother?"

"Because he wouldn't work! He... he... I had no choice, and your father..." She was beginning to pant slightly and her trembling was more pronounced. "He wouldn't work, even when I asked him, begged him to get a job, to give me a break so that I could be home... be with him, be with you. But no. He was a genius, he... didn't work with his _hands_ he worked with his _mind_. That damned man. And I loved... I loved him so much, so damn..."

Rodney was furious and  knew very well why. "You could have at least _pretended_ to like us the way Dad did!" he almost roared.

"Pretend to like you? _Pretended_? I adored you, you little beast, from the moment they put you in my arms..." Her face screwed up and she slumped down to her pillows. "You were difficult, always difficult, even in labor. You were breech, but I finally got you out and you were pink and perfect and already demanding. From the moment I saw you, I loved you, you were everything I ever wanted, everything I ever needed, the only thing Scott did for me out of love, though it probably wasn't even that." There were tears dripping out from under her eyelids, which were closed. 

"But I had to go back, had to go to work, there weren't the liberal policies of today back then. My company said I could have all the maternity leave I wanted, but it was unpaid. They wouldn't guarantee my position, either. I begged him, pleaded with him to do some of the theoretical work at the university, for the U.S., for wherever. He wouldn't. And I lost you because he took you away."

Rodney staggered with the weight of the knowledge she was giving him. Luckily, John was there, he'd always be there, and he caught Rodney gently, propped him up.

"I could tell, even as a baby, you were going to be special. While other children were barely crawling you were walking, demanding, -- I think your first word was 'why' -- and the light of intelligence in your face... I knew you were going to do great things. But I had to work. Someone had to. And so I lost you, I was never home when you were awake and he'd take you, disappear with you, all weekend."

All weekend... yes, Rodney remembered those days, when his father would pack them a lunch and just disappear, going to parks, or shopping, or anywhere but home. And he remembered the tight, pinched look on his mother's face when they returned, blaming him for the outing, arguing about it with his father. Again. He'd thought it was dislike, dislike of himself. Maybe it had been dislike, but he suddenly realized it wasn't necessarily aimed at him.

"Jean was a... a peace offering, I suppose; he was always after me to have another child. Business was better then, I could afford to take more time off, and he bribed me, told me he had a job for himself lined up. But when she was born, it was the same old thing." Her whole body was shaking hard and her tears were caught in the wisps of hair curling around her face. "I begged him, groveled, fought with him... did everything I could think of to get him to work too. The smug look on his face as he refused, it still..."

"Why didn't you just leave him?" John asked into the silence that had fallen. "You would have been awarded custody, I'm sure--"

"No." The word was as flat as Rodney remembered it being. She opened her eyes and for an instant, she was the same old Branwen. "I am a Maddox and to divorce him would be admitting a mistake. When a Maddox makes a mistake, she lives with it. And you, Meredith, you're far more a Maddox than a McKay. But he even took that away from me." To Rodney's evident confusion, she continued. "You were to be named Rodney Maddox McKay. But he did something, got to the records, I don't know what, and stuck you with that awful Meredith. He even got it wrong, so it wasn't Rodney Meredith McKay, but the other way around." 

She tried to take a deep breath but was only partially successful. "Then Aunt Deirdre died and left me her portion of the family money and I could see it, they were right. They were all right. He didn't love me, never, never..." She abruptly stopped and clenched up around a cough that tore through her body. The nurse was suddenly there, leaning her forward. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, but when it did end, she looked drained for it, looked worse than ever. 

"Get them out of here," she wheezed, her hand white-knuckled hard on the nurse's hand. "Out!"

The nurse half-turned and gave the two of them a reassuring smile. "This part is a bit on the embarrassing side," she said. "I'll be out in a moment."

Rodney stumbled his way to the door, grateful once again for John's steadiness at his side. In the hallway, they were almost unable to hear her wheezing, gagging, coughing... dying. Rodney counted the heavy carpet and walls as a blessing.

After a while, Rodney wasn't sure how long, exactly, he'd been letting John and the wall prop him up, the nurse came out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. "I'm going to have to change her pain meds, and she's always upset when that happens. I know you may want more time with her, but I have to counsel you against it, though..." She frowned. "Dr. McKay, can you come back in for a moment? Not right now, but in a couple of minutes? Let me get her settled and you can decide."

Rodney didn't want to, would rather be fed on by a Wraith, but when his mouth opened he found "Okay," croaking out.

She nodded. "One moment, then." 

She disappeared back into the bedroom and John turned to him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice quiet and serious.

"No," Rodney replied. "But I need to." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to hear Teyla's calming voice, instructing him to breathe, to relax, to not let the stress rule him. John stood quietly at his side, a firm, comfortable presence that helped him to ground himself further. He didn't always appreciate John as much as he should.

The nurse didn't speak when she came to the door, but she re-opened it slightly so he could slip through. She didn't follow him.

Branwen looked worse, if that were possible. She was propped up by pillows and her mouth was a tiny, pinched line. Rodney made himself walk across the plush carpeting until he was by her side. How many times had he wished for her love? How many whispered conversations had he had with Jeannie as their parents screamed at each other, those times when Jeannie felt she could wish the badness away? They loved their father so much, but never realized how much Branwen apparently loved them as well. 

All it did was point out Rodney's own failings as a parent to Madison. But he wouldn't have given up being with her for anything. And that's when the truth hit him.

"Branwen?" he whispered, not even certain she could hear him. "You should have told us, should have let us know. There were other things we could have done, things with you."

"Too late..." she murmured between wheezes. 

"It's never too late." Well, no, that wasn't true. It _was_ too late for them. "I know now. Please, trust me on this, trust that I'll do a good job? Trust me to be a good parent to Madison. I love her with all my heart, I would never hurt her. John loves her as much as I do."

Her eyelids barely cracked open and her breathing picked up. "Perversion..." she whispered.

Rodney snorted and rolled his eyes. "Get over that. There's nothing you can do, not even now, to change it. I'm happy, Madison's happy, John's happy. Let us be happy, please? I swear I'll be the best parent I possibly can be to Madison." Her wheezing was ragged. "Please, Mother."

After a moment, she breathed, "Can't stop you." He closed his eyes and turned, defeated once again by pride; her pride, Dad's pride, his own. Yeah, he was more a Maddox than a McKay, apparently. But before he could take a step, he heard, "Proud of... Love... you..."

It wasn't enough. There wasn't enough _enough_ in two galaxies to wipe the past away. But she was dying, and it appeared she might have had a worse time than he had during his childhood. He couldn't say it back, couldn't hold her, hug her, treat her the way Dad used to treat him and Jeannie, but he could acknowledge it, he could understand it, finally. "I know," he finally whispered, without turning.

John and the nurse were in the hallway waiting for him. John took one look at his face and slung one arm around his shoulders.

"Let me give you my cell phone number," she said. "You can call at any time and I'll be happy to give you updates. You might want to make those calls frequently, just in case."

John quickly exchanged cell phone numbers with her. "Thanks," he added. 

"Thank you," Rodney managed to say, his hand tight on John's arm. "Please... take..."

She smiled warmly. "I will. Call if you need anything, and I'll make sure to call you if there's any drastic change."

When they made it back to the car, Rodney couldn't stop shaking long enough to press the button to release the door locks. John gently took the keys from him and opened the passenger side door, easing Rodney down into the seat, even buckling his seatbelt. He walked around the car and sat in the driver's seat, started the car and drove them home, and Rodney had no memory of the trip at all. None.

They pulled into the driveway and John shut the car down. He reached over to take Rodney's hand. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

It took Rodney a while to understand what he'd just heard. When he figured it out, he said, "No."

John squeezed his hand gently. "How can I help?"

By just being there, by not judging me, by... "How much time before we have to pick up our favorite blonde?" he asked, in a voice gone raw from emotion.

"Couple of hours," John said, glancing at his watch.

Rodney nodded. "I want to forget this damn day ever happened. Part of me wants to get drunk but that'll just give me a hangover."

"Not a great way to get out of pain," John agreed quietly, "I can attest to that."

"Then do something. Help me, I -- I want to go to bed and... and..."

John's hand was warm and he used it to tug Rodney over for a kiss. "Let's go inside," he said, his voice husky and his eyes gentle. "I'm going to take off your clothes and then I'm going to make you come so hard you'll forget today and your own name." 

Gasping, feeling almost as breathless as his mother, Rodney kissed John again. "Yes..."

"The only thing that matters is what we have now, McKay," John said, making his words count by looking directly in to Rodney's eyes as he spoke, slowly and clearly. "Our life, with Madison, is more and better than... what either of us have ever had. We have to keep sight of that. We can't let it, let our fears or whatever, we can't let that rule our lives. It's damned hard, but we can do it." 

Intellectually, Rodney knew that. Emotionally, however... "I can't... I don't..." he said, floundering for words, feeling like he was going to fall apart. "I need to know that and I don't, not for sure..."

"I know." John nodded. "You push people away, just like I do. It keeps us from getting hurt. We can change it, Rodney. We can. We've already started." He got out of the car and went around to help Rodney get out as well. They went inside the house and John must have done something magical, because the next time Rodney was aware of anything, he was naked, on his back on their bed, and John was tenderly kissing him everywhere. Rodney found he could lose himself in the touches, the kisses, the slow build of passion. It might have been slightly desperate passion, but it was true and honest (unlike everything else in his life, apparently).

Rodney closed his eyes again, concentrating on feeling, trying to erase his mother's ravaged and bitter countenance from his brain. John's mouth went everywhere on his body -- his face, his neck, shoulders, chest, groin, legs, even feet; there wasn't a patch of skin on Rodney's body not blessed by John's mouth and Rodney took a deep breath, relaxing back against their bed, melting into a puddle of want. 

It seemed like time slowed down, somehow. Rodney was a physicist and knew all about time: real time, simulated time, time in a bottle, Time the magazine, time as a variable in particle physics, time as a function of spatial geometry. It was easy to say that time stood still or slowed down and, given the proper set of variables in the correct function, he could even prove that time didn't exist. Except it did, and John was giving him the gift of it, taking his time, showing Rodney a good time, proving all over again how important Rodney was to him, in this time and forever, hopefully. 

Though it wasn't easy, Rodney managed to let go. He told his mind, which normally would be chasing itself around his in his brain at about mach five, to just shut up already and enjoy, relax, forget and let John take him higher and higher. John was such a giving lover, gentle and calm when he wanted it and hard and fast when he needed it, always knowing which it was. 

Instead of thinking about his mother (he would have to, some day, a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered), he thought about how John was touching him, cataloguing all the touches and committing them to memory. 

John kissed Rodney's lips tenderly, then nipped at his lower lip; not hard, just enough to feel. His tongue slipped into Rodney's mouth and twined with Rodney's, encouraging it to come visit. When Rodney was young, he thought the idea of 'French kissing' gross; but it wasn't, oh, it wasn't, especially when John Sheppard was doing the kissing.

John let his kisses spill over from Rodney's mouth to his cheek, his ear, his hairline and the tiny bit of flesh where the eyebrows met. Those kisses were equally tender and sweet, gentle and exciting all at once. At Rodney's (ever receding) hairline, John's tongue came out to briefly taste the skin there, before moving down again.

John kissed Rodney's neck and traced his earlobe with tongue and lips, a slippery, shivery motion that made Rodney's breath stutter in his throat. Then John made it worse by dragging his tongue along Rodney's Adam's apple, pausing to nip and briefly suck.

John knew how sensitive Rodney's nipples were. He played there, kissing, nipping, licking with broad swaths of his tongue, making Rodney almost unbearably hard to the point of trying to drive his hips up against the weight on them, trying to find something, anything, to push against. 

John moved lower, giving Rodney's leaking dick a quick swipe of his tongue, then mouthing Rodney's balls. He knew not to be rough in that area; instead, it was gentle to the point of shattering and Rodney made a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper. "Shhh..." John whispered before moving lower.

John kneaded Rodney's thigh muscles with his hands while kissing the inside of Rodney's knees, the flesh at the top of the instep, each toe. When he lifted and firmly massaged the sole of each foot with the ball of his hand, Rodney was pretty certain he began to melt into the bed.

John turned Rodney over, gently repositioning him partially on his knees and Rodney groaned, already anticipating what John was about to do. He almost didn't like it when John rimmed him; it felt so good he always lost control and he was pretty sure he could come just from that, nothing else touching his erection, but John was evil like that and always stopped before he could try. 

John rimmed him briefly, long enough for Rodney to start babbling in tongues, then kissed his way up his spine, diverting occasionally to plant a long, sucking kiss on certain hot spots. By the time John reached Rodney's neck again, he was pretty certain he no longer existed; all that was left of Rodney McKay was a puddle of hormonal goo. And it felt _fabulous_.

John's slick fingers gently opening him felt almost anti-climactic. He was taking his time, pushing lube in with one finger, or two, or even three, twined closely together, making sure Rodney was ready, raking over his prostate at brief, random moments. By the time he pressed himself into Rodney, Rodney was pretty sure he had no more muscles left, certainly none in the lower half of his body. 

John pushed all the way in then stopped, just held still while Rodney nearly hyperventilated, overcome  with want beneath him. "Move!" he gasped. "God! Please!"

John did move, but not in the way expected. While keeping himself buried deeply in Rodney, he wrapped his arms around and pulled Rodney's body up, settling him on his legs. Rodney let his head fall back onto John's shoulder, trying hard to breathe, feeling John so deep he could almost taste him in his throat. 

When John finally began to move, it was in minute increments. His dick was snug against Rodney's prostate sending bright shards of pleasure throughout his body with every little press in and up. Rodney wanted to come, wanted to come so badly it was like a drug. At the same time, he didn't, he wanted it to go on forever, it was that exciting, that amazing.

John had one arm wrapped around Rodney's chest while the other was on his groin, not moving, not squeezing, just a warm hand occasionally tugging on Rodney's balls to ensure the pleasure would last as long as Rodney was sane -- and Rodney didn't know how much longer that would be. They were sweaty, sticky, aroused almost to the point of pain when John's movements went from little motions to almost thrusting. 

"Are you ready?" John gasped, still not pulling on Rodney's cock.

"Oh, God, yes," Rodney managed to get out. "Please. John, please. Have to..."

"Tell me." John wasn't moving enough, and his hand still wasn't where Rodney needed it to be. It was, however, slick with pre-come which Rodney could feel dripping out. "Tell me."

"Now, goddamnit, now... need it... Now. N-- oh _FUCK_!" In the middle of the word, John pushed Rodney back down on his knees and went for it, slamming in and out, one hand on Rodney's hip while the other began stripping his dick, slick, fast and hard. Rodney came in about three seconds, the intensity so strong his whole body seemed to seize up, tightening unbearably. He distantly heard John make a sound which was almost a roar, but was too involved with coming to really pay that much attention.

Eventually, Rodney came back down to a wrecked bed and John spooned up behind him. They were as messy as the bed and Rodney's hip was on the edge of a rather monumental wet spot, but he didn't care. Nothing could hurt him now, all his anguish and pain had exploded from him with his climax, leaving him floating pleasantly. He could almost fall asleep, but he knew they had to shower, to dress, to pick up Madison and deal with whatever else was out there. He thought they might be able to do just that, soon. Hopefully.

"We got shafted, you know," John said, breathing into Rodney's ear. "We were shafted and completely fucked over in the parenting department."

"Yeah." Maybe that's why they were so stupendously bad at it.  

"But look at it this way," John continued. "At least we know what to avoid."

Rodney closed his eyes. He was afraid that if he started laughing, he wouldn't be able to stop.

* * *

After showering, they left to pick up Madison from the Burmendez's place. John went out to the backyard to horse around with the kids -- Madison, Chrisobel, another girl about Madison's age and Chrisobel's twin brothers -- while Rodney did the parent thing and chatted with Meritas. As they stood there, one of the twins tripped on something and fell on the bricks of the patio. He stood and hobbled toward them, loudly crying for his mom, interrupting her in the middle of her sentence. 

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you bleeding?" she demanded and Rodney blinked.

"Um..."

"I don't see any blood. Go on, now, you don't need me."

There must have been a weird look on his face because she chuckled. "My rule of thumb is, if they're bleeding, they can get their own band-aid, but they've got to make sure they don't get blood on the carpet."

Wow, Rodney thought. That must be what being a 'real' parent was like. He could always base their parenting skills on her, he supposed. And it worked -- the pain was gone like magic and the little boy was running out into the yard as if nothing had happened. Weird.

When they returned, they found a message on their machine from Carson, asking them to call. Rodney returned the call and found out from Carson's sister that their mother had passed away. Carson had wanted them to know, and wanted to invite them to the wake. Rodney and John wanted to go, to be with their friend, but they had to think about Madison. She'd had a little too much death in her life to be faced with another, even though she didn't know Carson's mother.

They discussed it quietly while Madison watched her TV allotment that evening. 

"I'm thinking no," John said. They were sharing a beer on the back porch. "There's been enough upheaval in her life without another death."

"She's going to want to know, though," Rodney said, passing the bottle back to John. "And she loves Carson."

"I do too," John said. "And I know you do. But it's different with Maddie."

"It's different for us," Rodney replied, suddenly and overwhelmingly weary of death and dying. "But we should tell her, just not give the option to go to Scotland for the funeral." Take a page from Meritas's book, he thought. "Keep it low key."

John nodded. When Madison's TV time was up, they went to join her in the living room. "Hey, Beav," John said, letting her climb on him. "We got a call today from Dr. Carson."

"You remember why he went back to Scotland?" Rodney asked, and she nodded. "Well, his mother has died, that's what we just found out. She was very, very old and frail."

She looked up, soberly regarding them. "His mommy is dead?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so."

She frowned and looked down at her hands. "Do we--"

"No," Rodney said quickly. "It's a long way away and we just don't have time."

"Okay." She looked at her fingers for a long time before speaking again. "Can I send him something?"

"Yes," John said. "I was thinking we should all send flowers or something, and a card."

"I can make a picture," Madison offered, and Rodney smiled.

"I think that would be a wonderful thing to do," he said, nodding. "Dr. Carson is a good friend, we should make sure we tell him how much we care about him."

"Okay." Madison headed for her room. 

"That went well," John muttered. Rodney grunted and headed for his laptop. He should be able to get through the next few simulations before something else cropped up.

* * *

Madison, as it turned out, was precisely forty-nine inches tall, at least according to the measuring sticks at Cedar Point. Rodney was coming to really regret that growth spurt.

The trip through Ohio was uneventful, though it was long. They'd given brief thought to going through Detroit, but had vetoed it pretty quickly. John insisted on driving -- "C'mon McKay, you drive like a girl." "Then can I drive?" "I do not! And you drive like a maniac!" "Then Unca John should drive!" -- and they made it bearable by stopping pretty much for anything and everything, just because they could. The game plan was to drive to the planned hotel in Sandusky, just outside the park, and spend the next day in the park. On the way back, they'd stop overnight in Cleveland, visit the Six Flags park that used to be SeaWorld, then go home the day after that.

The idea, of course, was to get their minds off The Visit, which was already in capital letters in Rodney's mind. So they dawdled, gawked, made up stupid math games to pass the time while miles and miles of painfully flat Ohio passed them by. 

There was a Comfort Inn near the park, and that's where John steered them, having made the reservations the day before. They had a small suite with a king-sized bed in one room and a pull-out sofa in the other. The swimming pool was large and partially indoors (out of the summer sun) and they'd all brought swimsuits at John's insistence. Horsing around in the pool for a couple hours definitely got the travel kinks out, and made them hungry enough for real food.

The next morning, they went to the park bright and early, Rodney carrying SPF 150 sun-block since he was the only one who seemed to be wary of skin cancer. The park was jammed with people, mostly families turning pinker and redder by the minute. Rodney took one look at the 'Blue Streak' rollercoaster and flat-out refused to go, despite John's pouting and Madison's daring. Instead, he watched, almost terrified, as John and Madison rode the thing. Not only was it too damn big, it was wooden and the groaning, popping and creaking noises nearly gave Rodney a heart attack. When they exited the ride, both were wild-eyed and wild-haired and Madison demanded to do it again, immediately. There had to be at least a dozen damn roller-coasters in that park and Madison had to ride all of them -- but the worst of them, something called the 'wicked twister' thankfully had a higher height limit.

Rodney insisted they stay in the shade as much as possible. He had the feeling both John and Madison were just humoring him but he could bide his time. No melanomas for Rodney McKay, not if he could help it. 

He did join them on some of the rides. The flume ride was fun and wet, which felt good after the heat of the sun (he made sure to apply sunscreen to himself and Madison immediately, though). There was an aerial tram from the front of the park to the middle of it, and that was relaxing, and he'd always had a soft-spot for dodge'em cars. There were some live shows as well, some of them almost amusing. They hadn't brought their suits with them, so thankfully missed another chance for skin cancer by going to 'soak city.'

In the late afternoon, Madison dragged John to the arcade games, demanding money. Rodney collapsed in a plastic chair under a plastic umbrella and wanted to rest his head on the plastic table, though he managed to resist. As he was rubbing his feet, a ride called 'The Scrambler' caught his eye and made him go off on an unexpected tangent. Maybe the problem they were having with the ZedPM canisters wasn't with the outer shell...

He pulled out his cell and dialed Cheyenne Mountain. "This is McKay. Has SG1 returned yet?"

"Uh... yes, sir, they returned a couple of hours ago."

"Good. Get Carter up and on the phone. I need to talk to her immediately."

While he was waiting for his call to be transferred, John joined him under the plastic umbrella. He had a wide, goofy grin on his face. "I think they're about to ban Maddie from the games," he said. "She just keeps winning."

"Well, that's what you get with a child gen-- Carter?"

"Rodney, can't this wait?" Carter sounded exhausted. "I've been up for over a day--"

"No, it can't. Listen. It's not the material of the containers, it's the way we've got the lattice arranged. Dynamic reversal of polarities, _within_ the container, as it's--"

"So that the energy gets, what, sucked in by--"

"Yes, yes, filling it from the bottom or top is the wrong way to do it. We're looking at the problem in three dimensions but we have to do more than that -- think of it like burning a CD, you have to start in the middle--"

"Rodney, that might work." Carter suddenly woke up. "With the lattice at--"

"Run some simulations, let me know," Rodney said. "We're not home, we're someplace called Melanomas-R-Us so call on the cell."

"Are you at an amusement park?" Rodney could actually _hear_ the grin on Carter's face. 

"Apparently this is how some people have 'fun'," Rodney shot back. "I have to go to yet another death ride so run the sims quickly. If I don't call back in a couple of hours, have them send a body-bag." He hung up, but he heard her cut the connection before he did.

John had a bemused expression on his face. "You've been thinking about the ZPM project?"

"Not really, it was something that just... came to me. But I think it'll work." He peered out through the crowd. "Is that Madison jumping up and down?"

It was indeed Madison. Apparently, she'd won so much junk that the park officials seriously asked her to stop playing. As a bribe to do so, they offered an enormous white stuffed bear, almost as big as she was. "Oh, no," Rodney said, looking from Madison's pleading face to John's smirk. "We can't--"

"Unca Mer! Please?!" Even John got into the act, trying to hide his grin.

Rodney knew when strategic withdrawal was necessary. He turned his second-best glower on John. " _You_ are carrying it," he said.

As the sun began to go down, John steered them to the one ride Rodney knew he'd been focused on all day -- the Ferris wheel, or as Cedar Point called it, the 'giant wheel.' It was far bigger than any other Ferris wheel Rodney had ever seen, climbing slowly into the air. As they waited in line, John's face grew dreamier as he smiled up at the huge thing. 

"Unca Mer? Does Unca John have a thing for Ferris wheels?"

"Yes, he does," Rodney replied, shaking his head and smiling.

"Is that normal, you think?"

"I have no idea."

"Not listening," John sing-songed, never taking his eyes off the wheel. 

Finally, they were on it and Rodney had to agree, it was pretty damn neat. The size of the thing would have let them see almost to Toronto if the smog hadn't been so bad. The four of them -- including the ludicrous bear -- fit into one car and slowly, majestically, they rose into the air.

"It's like flying in a balloon," John said, the smile on his face growing. "I'll have to take you two ballooning some day."

"I can wait," Rodney said. He looked down at Madison, who was staring into space, a frown on her face and her head cocked. "Maddie?"

"Unca Mer, I don't think it's the outside that's making the problems," she said. 

Rodney glanced at John before speaking. "About what, the ZedPMs?"

"Yeah. I think it's the insides that's messing things up. The trellis thingy. We keep trying to fill it from the top or the bottom, but I think that might be wrong." She turned her frown outside the car. "Oooh... look. The water looks so blue."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Rodney replied. "Too bad it's nasty."

Madison laughed. "But anyway, I think if we tried filling from the middle, having the... the..." She blinked and the frown was back. "What's it called, when the atoms line up--"

"Polarity?"

"Yeah! That's it. We need a way to get the trellis thingy to pull from the middle in, not us pushing from the outside in." She turned the frown on Rodney. "I think that's what I mean."

"So, the polarity would have to be dynamic, changing so that it would fill the canister from the middle out," he said, nodding. "Like that?"

"Dynamic, that means changing with the way things go, right?"

"In a way. Let's call Sam and see what she says. I'm pretty sure we should get good cell reception up here." The car had come to a gently rocking halt near the top as Rodney called Carter's personal number. "Carter?"

"Rodney, I'm not done--"

"No, listen. Our mini-you has an idea about the canisters, filling them from the middle using a dynamic polarity to draw the energy inside. What do you think? Let me hand her over, she can explain where we are and what we're doing too."

He passed the cell phone to Madison, who began excitedly explaining her idea as well as describing how they were on the biggest Ferris wheel in the world and Uncle John had a thing for Ferris wheels and they could almost see Toronto but Uncle Mer said the smog was too bad and she'd won a enormous white bear because she was too good on the games. He chuckled and looked over to John, who was giving him the strangest, most tender look Rodney had ever seen. It made his heart pound faster, made him want to...

"You just..."

Rodney shrugged with one shoulder. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," John replied, then he leaned over and kissed Rodney gently on the lips. "Yeah. It is."

And there was really nothing Rodney could say to that, nothing at all, so he just smiled and leaned into his spouse's side.

* * *

Six days later, they stepped through the wormhole back to Atlantis. They had a few crates of things coming on the Daedalus' next run and were returning with substantially more luggage -- and one ridiculously huge bear -- than what they left with. Elizabeth and Radek met them in the 'gateroom with smiles and hugs.

Their briefing was short; they hadn't been away that long (though at times, it had felt like forever). Carson hadn't come with them; he was still in Scotland with his family. He had been touched and grateful for Madison's gift of a drawing, depicting four people on the ground watched by three from the air. Madison didn't have to explain that it was her parents as well as his mother.

"I see you managed to keep my city up and running in my absence," Rodney said to Radek.

"It's not like he wasn't busy," Elizabeth said with a grin. "Radek has some news for you."

Radek looked both abashed and... was that glowing? "Ewri is expecting," he said.

It took both John and Rodney a few seconds to parse that sentence then they were pounding Radek on the back and shaking his hand. Madison looked at everyone and started jumping up and down. "What does that mean? What's going to happen?"

Elizabeth took pity on her and smiled. "It means that Radek and Ewri Zelenka are going to have a baby, Maddie."

Rodney tousled Madison's hair. "The first baby in Atlantis!"

Madison's eyes were like saucers as she looked at the adults. "A _baby_? I never seen a baby! When? When will it be born? I could be its babysitter! I won't charge much, honest!"

John, Elizabeth and Radek burst out laughing. Rodney just sighed and took Madison's hand. "C'mon, you venal beast, it's time to go home."

"Finally," John added with a smile. He took Madison's other hand and that's where they went.

end


End file.
